a Dragon's Perspective
by MyerChild
Summary: Draco's POV books 1-epilogue. When the boy hero of the wizarding world gets engaged, it takes all a Slytherin's strength's to not go mad.


Hello lovelies. I thought I should start this out by saying that: No, **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise** whether it be the books or the characters themselves, they all belong to J.. I do use quotes from the books in this story, since I'm trying to stick as canon as I possibly know how without people getting mad me.  
>Second, in this story, Draco and Harry actually do not end up together at the very end in how I originally planned this. It may change in the future, it may not.<br>In this story also contains the shippings of Pansy/Draco, Astoria/Draco, Ginny/Harry and of course Lucius/Narcissa with the mentions of Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Krum, Ron/Lavender, Cedric/Cho, Cho/Harry and even a bit of Cedric/Harry, though nothing's explicit about that.

I am covering Books 1 through 7, including Epilouge,

Warnings: Smut, language, slash.

Rating: M, for a purpose, and even if it doesn't start out as M, it will end up as so.

Summery: Draco's point of view from books 1-7, Post war & Epilouge. When the boy hero gets engaged, a certain Slytherin must take all that is in himself not to go mad.

Please Read & Review, though either way I can't make you. But it may just make my day. Thank you. Please enjoy.

Chapter One:

**Hero of Wizarding World, engaged!**

**The Chosen one has Chosen future spouse.**

**Harry Potter to marry! No longer top most bachelor.**

Draco Malfoy's grey eyes glistened a bit as he folded the wizarding newspaper in half and stuffed it to the side of his breakfast tray that a rather sneaky house elf had placed in front of him without him noticing. Though the silver tray was quite full of different arrays of food, the now ex-Slytherin decided his appetite was not up to par; though that wasn't saying much as of late. The end of the war had left its scars, both physical and emotional. He always felt drained, and he never slept well at night anymore. Though, he supposed, he hadn't slept through the night since his sixth year at Hogwarts anyways. But now, the dark mark had faded to nothing but a scar, a memory of a choice that he had made at a too young an age, so it couldn't be the excuse anymore to his tossing and turning and waking up in a cold sweat. It lay much further in his skin than any scar could, but he wasn't about to rake over those reasons again.

"Draco," a female voice drifted into the room bringing the blonde from his thoughts as he glanced up to see his mother sweeping into the room. The sun streaming in through the windows of his bedroom caught her hair giving her a soft glow and just for a moment, she looked flawless. But she wasn't of course. "I was hoping you'd join your father and myself in the sitting room for breakfast." Narcissa's voice had a hint of concern in it, but he chose to ignore it… again.

"Mother," he responded, pushing the tray aside before standing to mirror his mother's aristocrat posture. Straight backed, head high, cool mask set in place as grey orbs met with blue, in silent appeal. "I haven't been hungry, so I didn't bother." Narcissa's pale features fixed into understanding which caused Draco to stiffen only slightly, just about resisting holding his breath.

"So, you've read the paper." She asked, her eyes scanning his orient coffee table for one, fixing her gaze on the moving photographs of the Daily Prophet, half crumpled beside his breakfast tray of cold food. She sighed. "I must say, there was a part of me that was hoping you might have decided to ignore the paper today." Another sigh as she folded her elegant hands in front of her, causing Draco's gaze to fix to a spot of wall just beyond his mother's head. There is no way he is looking at her and her knowing gaze. He refused to break under her scrutiny, he was stronger than that.

"Draco." Mother Malfoy prodded, taking another step into the room towards her only son. He shook his head firmly, arms crossing defensively over his chest.

"No," he said and his tone was so sharp that it made his mother stop. He wasn't in the mood to be lectured. Not right now. He's had enough of the 'but darlings' and the 'I'm worried for you' conversations with his mother to last the rest of his life. Though he was thankful his father wasn't in on it. "I'll be fine, mother. I think I'll just go out for a walk around the grounds. Check the wards, and be sure they are still in order." And before she could respond or even bother to tell him that he's over checked them in the last few months, he's wrapping his fingers around his cloak and striding out of the door, leaving her standing alone in the middle of his bedroom.

The air is fresh and cool against his skin, possibly turning it from its usual pale grayish tint to a brush of pink upon his cheeks. Spring was just around the corner, and the morning frost hadn't fully melted as he crunched across the Malfoy Manor's grounds, leaving light foot prints in the morning dew behind in his wake. It was quiet, except for a few birds in the distance signing about what a beautiful morning it was. Well, maybe to them it was. His world was crashing down all around him. Okay, perhaps that was a dramatic way of putting it, but since when was he, Draco Malfoy, rational about something? Never, he supposes. Especially when it came to Harry sodding Potter, and he supposes he could blame the damn Gryffindor for him being the distraction from ever being rational.

Kicking a stray stone across the path and watching it bounce its way out of sight as he approached the two seater bench and pulling his wand from his pocket to cast a simple drying spell before sitting his backside on the cool metal. As he twitched the hawthorn wand between forefinger and thumb, he mused how it had never worked correctly as before since Potter had returned it to him at his trial at the Ministry of Magic. Though the Malfoy's had switched sides at the last moment to escape Azkaban, it didn't pardon Lucius and Draco from a private trail that only a select few attended; Harry Potter included. Draco remembered how the Gryffindor testified, vouched for his innocence and kept his entire family free from prison. Draco even remembered the moment when his and Potter's fingers briefly touched as his wand was handed back to him, and though the simple and accidental touch set the Slytherin's skin on fire, Harry merely flushed and nodded before leaving Draco standing there, alone. But could he really blame him? He probably had saved his life in the Room of Requirement, and never indentified him and his friends at the Manor but that still didn't justify how he treated the Gryffindor back at school. If things were different, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Or maybe, if he had only accepted the squirmy feelings, the sappy thoughts, and the erotic dreams and confessed them to the prat back at school, then perhaps instead of marrying….her, Potter would be marrying him. Perhaps.

The feelings had always been there, if he thought back on it. Yes, it was a whole new feeling to him, since he was raised to be the boastful brat that was intended of an 11 year old child. And what 11 year old child would ever think of the feeling of fondness over someone? Especially one who isn't female or pureblooded through and through, the quite opposite of what he was raised into. And anyways, when he and that messy haired idiot he didn't even know who he was. And if he thought about it, he could remember that day very specifically.

It was a warm Wednesday morning that an eleven year old Draco had woken up too, with a house elf getting his clothes ready and laid out for him on the huge king sized four poster bed that was far too large for just one small child. It was full of over sized feather pillows, and even a toy dragon or two, stuffed in the far corner of the bed, barely touched any more but still offering some what a comfort to night terrors of a man with no nose and snake like eyes usually.

He remembers that day having his mother and father come into his room to let him know about their travel to Diagon Alley, since he is in need of school supplies and books for his first year at Hogwarts. After dressing with the help of some house elf, Doppy or Dopey or something, and breakfast was consumed before the floo-ing into Borgin and Burkes, quite ceremoniously, even if his mother hadn't liked the idea much since it was no strange factor that it would dirty her brilliant bright blue robes. It was always like her in wanting to keep clean and tidy to make a first approving impression, even on the lowly muggle borns.

After casting a quick cleaning spell, the three Malfoy's exited the dark shop in Knockturn Alley to journey into the lighter and quite more crowded streets of Diagon Alley.

"Well then," Lucius had said, holding his head high and looking at his family with a haughty air about him. "Where do we start?" One blonde eyebrow quirked at his wife, who had softly sighed to herself and nodded down the street before guiding the way away from the entrance of Knockturn Alley to Gringotts the wizarding bank that was run by goblins. Personally, the creatures always gave Draco the creeps and he had gripped his mother's hand even more tightly as he followed in between them as they requested to withdraw the right amount of galleons for their day's purchases.

Money bag now filled to the brim, the three Malfoy's had exited the bank, only stopping when Draco had stopped just outside the extravagant Quality Quidditch Supplies and pointed at the broom in the shop window, which a whole bunch of children and adults alike were gathered around.

"Father," an eleven year old Draco inquired, turning appealing eyes up to his father in what he could only think of as his puppy dog expression. The expression that would insure that he would get something from either one or both of his parents. "I would like to have that."

"Draco," Narcissa sighed, exasperated. "A first year isn't allowed a broom. And you do own a splendid Comet Two sixty at home anyways." She turned her cool gaze on her husband, who nodded in agreement, though his eyes flickered in challenge and Draco's mouth quirked into a smirk, knowing that look far too well.

"Yes, of course." Lucius agreed then cast his eyes over the shops with a heavy sigh, and Narcissa was soon to follow in the scanning. "I suggest Draco go in and get his robes fitted first. I will purchase his books, and you, Narcissa, should examine the wands and their prices first before he chooses one."

nodded, not looking for an argument as the three of them separated. She led Draco to Madam Malkin's and inside where a young witch bustled over as soon as the small bell rung announcing their presence.

"Madam Malkin is in a fire call with another customer, may I help you?" She asked, smiling warmly at them both even as Narcissa looked down her nose at her but nodded.

"Yes. My son, Draco, is in need of robe fittings for he will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy this year."

The witch nodded and still smiling guided Draco over towards the stool. "Of course, ." She intoned helping Draco onto that wooden stool, helping him remove his top most cloak off to make the fitting a far more easier experience.

"I'll be back when I am satisfied, Draco. I shall pick you up in fifteen minutes. Wait for me. Do you understand?" Her voice was soft, but commanding, and eleven year old Draco nodded mutely. And with one last glance, his mother had left him and the young witch alone.

"Hogwarts 'eh?" The witch asked, smiling brightly at the young aristocrat as she led him towards the stool in the back, helping him up onto it. "You know what house you'll be sorted into, love, or a guess, wager?"

"Yes," Draco replied, not looking for a conversation, no matter how friendly the woman was acting, it was always about class first and she was below him.

The light tinkle of bells notifying the tailors that they had another customer, and with curious eyes, Draco flicked his eyes towards the front of the store where a small boy was standing, looking as if he was drowning in his over sized clothing. His hair was a mess, and he wore wire framed glasses with a white plaster across his nose, seemingly keeping the glasses from staying in place. Draco's first reaction was the usual; distaste. Did the boy know no grounds of magic what so ever that he couldn't even bother to fix his glasses, no less shrink his clothes to a proper fitting? Second off, the hair could do with a good trimming and did the boy not know the use of a comb let alone a brush? Nose wrinkling with obvious displeasure, Draco would have tore his gaze away right then and there and pretended the other boy did not even exist, if it weren't for something about him that Draco just knew he wanted. Like a child seeing a toy in the window shop around Christmas time, or a puppy in the pet store. The green eyes are a bit hypnotizing as Madam Malkin scurried from behind the counter and ushered the small boy closer towards Draco, and at once the young Malfoy's heart had lifted as it had never done before. He had to get this boy to like him, in one way or another. And as he was helped up onto the stool beside Draco, the Slytherin to be decided his best diversion to win this person was one way, and one way only; boasting.

"Hello," Draco said, standing a bit taller to make himself look a bit more important as he spared the boy with a glance. "Hogwarts, too?"

The smaller boy fidgeted uncomfortably but made quick eye contact before responding. "Yes."

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco nodded, playing the 'I'm very much important, so pay attention to me' card. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Draco puffed his chest out with a slight smirk as he turned his grey eyes to the other boy hoping to see him impressed or thoughtful, but he looked neither. Time to change tactic, perhaps he was talking about himself too much?

"Have you got your own broom?"

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

"I do-Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"Draco pressed, stomach tightening with anticipation that the answer would be 'Slytherin, of course' and hoping against all hope his answer would be 'Hufflepuff, I suppose'.

"No," the boy said again, just about squirming now and looking overly uncomfortable and Draco wondered if it had to do with his question asking or the fact that Madam Malkin was pinning his robe.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I'd think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Draco asked, turning his head to look at his non-so commentary new friend who again looked up and made eye contact with him, clearly a bit befuddled.

"Mmm," the boy seemed to agree and it lifted Draco's spirits. Slytherin, for sure, there was now no doubt about it.

Though grinning was clearly out of the question, Draco lifted his head in triumph and went to his casual glance out of the shop's window to watch the passerby's. A large man holding two ice cream cone's and waving at the two of them sparked another idea. Humour in the best way that he knew how.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco exclaimed and pointed at the huge man until the other boy looked up and followed his pointed finger and beamed. Finally, a way in, in which they would bond and become best friends: making fun of hilarious looking half-breeds.

"That's Hagrid," the boy said, turning to look at Draco now, a huge and almost beautiful smile upon his face. If it was even possible for a boy of such his nature to be beautiful, Draco only thought females were to be considered beautiful. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Draco responded, a bit confused of why he just considered another boy 'beautiful'. That wasn't right. He blinked and before he could stop himself. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" He closed his mouth as that once beautiful look turned to irritation upon the other boy's face, and those once confused green eyes that had lightened up for that split second were once again cold and Draco wished he could take the words back, though he didn't know why.

"He's a gamekeeper," the other boy countered and Draco held back a scoff.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco dropped his eyes, his defiant mode had kicked in, and there was no way to reign it in now.

"I think he's brilliant," the other boy spit back, his gaze always turning away sending Draco's stomach dropping through the floor. He had to find that way back in, he just had too. There was no way he was going to let this one get away, when he was so close.

"Do you?" He asked, with a slight sneer, eyes softening a fraction as he glanced back up to glare hotly at the savage beyond the window. "Is he with you? Where are your parents?" Now that he asked it, it hit him. The boy had come in alone, with no mother or father and he began to wonder if he should have asked at all.

"They're dead," the other boy replied shortly, clearly not wanting to discuss it, and how could Draco blame him?

"Oh, sorry," Draco replied, sounding a bit put out. "But, they were our kind, weren't they?" He prodded, only now realizing how vulnerable the other boy must be feeling.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." The other boy said, his attention fixed on a piece of wall opposite them. The boasting wasn't getting him anywhere, Draco decided, and switched tact again.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" Draco asked, now the thought hitting him that if he was to be friends with this boy, he really ought to know his name. Then he could know if his mother and father would even allow it. Though his outer appearance seemed muggleborn, the way the boy looked was awfully familiar and he knew there was a power about him that no blasted muggleborn could even hope for. But as the other boy's mouth opened to respond, he was rudely cut off by the old witch who was now straightening up and patting him on the shoulder.

"That's you done, my dear," and with that, the smaller boy hopped from his footstool, allowing Madam Malkin to remove his tailored robes. Draco's heart sunk and he watched as he dropped the right amount of sickles and galleons into her hand and took the brown package of his tailored robes.

"Well," Draco called after him. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." He said, trying to sound both bored and encouraging as he possibly could before the other boy gave a short nod and was out of the shop without another word.

"And that's you done," the witch that had been tailoring Draco's robes said, and he gratefully shed them before racing to the door to see if he could catch one last glimpse of the boy in over sized clothing and round glasses, but he and his savage friend were lost in the crowd, and Draco was forced to sit in a chair and wait for his mother or father to come and fetch him.


End file.
